Mirror (WIP)
by Andromeda1111
Summary: Christine is torn between two men. Raoul and her Angel of Music. But, this time, she chooses a different path.
1. Chapter One - Twisted Every Way

**I do not own any of these characters! All rights to Gaston Leroux, Andrew Lyodd Webber, and Susan Kay.**

* * *

Chapter One - Twisted Every Way

"Fondest greetings, good monsieurs."

Candles died, music stopped, and the jovial party goers ceased their rambunctious chatter. All eyes turned to fix themselves on the man dressed as death himself, perched high above them at the top of the stairs. Christine, back turned towards the masquerade's newest addition, grew rigid and felt her paled skin grow suddenly cold. Wide starlit eyes watched in horror as Raoul and Madame Giry's faces were changed almost instantaniously. There was no need for her to turn 'round. The darkest part of her soul sensed a presense, one that had been absent from her mind for several months. Her very own Angel of Music both awakened her senses and delighted her mind in ways that left her body feeling exhausted.

"Did you think I had left you for good?"

/No/. He would never release his hold on her. The velvet of his voice was ethereal and angelic as it slithered into her mind, stirring her longing and fear. Instinctively she reached for Raoul hoping to be reminded of all that they had accomplished together. The normality and familiarity the touch of his hand brought instantly warmed her. Attempting to catch her gaze he held her tightly by the hand drawing her to his side. Trembling she allowed herself to be pulled just behind his shoulder, feeling momentarily less vulnerable.

But his eyes, black as midnight, found her. They would always find her.

Raising above him a red leather bound book he continued, he gaze swaying back to examine the not-so-modest gathering, "I have written you an opera." The managers' speechless forms he now sought adding with malice, "I advise you to comply. There are worse things than a shattered chandelier."

All bewildered stares were turned upward towards the crystal light fixture as his suddenly swayed above them. Panicked Gilles Andre rushed towards the natorious Phantom.

"No," he begged as he held his hand before him, almost as though he meant to stave off a potential attack. In all other circumstances Christine would have thought the display to be humerous, but she knew that her Angel was capable of killing. She'd seen his violence first hand.

"Here I bring the finished score," dramatically the masked feind paused and threw the composition to the marbled steps below him. Yellowed parchment filled with notes, scribbles, and inkspots fell loose. "Don Juan Triumphant!"

His bold announcment hung in the air, powerful and charged with a silent threat. With fear as his ally he knew the Populair's managers could not refuse.

Encouraged by their lack of protests he continued with zeal. "A few instructions just before rehearsal starts."

Slowly, like a lion stalking its prey, he approached La Carlotta. Despite the woman's foul treatment of every other chorus member, Christine envied the woman's bravery. Beneath his critical gaze she remained perfectly stoic, though her trembling hands revealed her. Christine's heart pounded as she watched the scene unfold, all baffled murmers dying in her ears.

"La Carlotta must be taught to act," The Phantom spat viciously. Gesturing towards the woman's appalled form he continued. "Not her normal trick of strutting 'round the stage."

Offended Carlotta let out an outraged growl. Luckily the Ghost barely paid her any mind as he directed his venom towards Ubaldo Paingi.

"Our Don Juan must loose some weight its not healthy for a man of Piangi's age," barely casting the leading man a second glance he turned icely to regard Firmen and Andre. "And my managers must learn that their place is in an office not the arts."

Christine felt Raoul's muscles tighten all throughout his back as O.G's eyes found them huddled protectively behind rows of other guests.

Intimidated by his very presense her hands gripped her fiance's satin sleeve tighter. Deep in her concious mind she heard the remnants of his past melodies swimming just beyond her comprehension, transporting to a time before her dreams had become nightmares. Her Angel was beckoning to her, calling her to return to him. Every muscle in her small frame trembled until she felt herself relent and move towards the man she feared. Stepping past Raoul she imagined the shocked look that would be planted on his face. Yet he did not reach for her, or try to keep her at his side.

Alone she crossed the marble expanse, lifting the hem of her rose colored gown. Just beyond his reach she halted, rememberingthe night she had spent submerged in music and his passion. Her Angel was indeed a man capable of both love and hate. Both emotions found their place on his face nearly hidden beneath his hauntingly skeletal mask. For the first time in months she found herself once again breathless by him. She couldn't help but wonder if he had noticed her absense from the theatre - after everything that had transpire. After he had sent that chandelier crashing towards her.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat her jaw clamped tighter as the man she rightfully feared moved closer. Only a breath away, Christine's veins grew cold with the power of his glare. The memory of his hands upon her skin, guiding her every move, the touch of his breath on her neck, and the sound of his voice as it guided her.

"As for our star," he whispered almost affectionately, "Miss. Christine Daae..."

The sound of her name crested on the sweet swells of his voice perplexed and amazed her. Suddenly the ring chained around her neck felt shockingly similar to a noose, straingling and forcing the air from her lungs. Suffocating her. The Phantom's eyes breifly followed the length of the silver until he came to an understanding that she dreaded.

Returning his scrutiney back to her face he continued, "No doubt she'll do her best - it's true her voice is good. She knows, though, should she wish to excel she has much still to learn, if pride will let her return to me...her teacher."

The shock of the gathering was not unexpected. Weary of his constant war she struggled to seem unaffected. Blinking back tears she kept her eyes fixated on her tutor. It was hard to guess his thoughts. His anger was clear as he now fixated his attention towards her, daring her to react. When she remained perfectly still he lurched forward, yanking the ring from her neck. Clutching her burning neck she gasped aloud. Harshly grasping her chin he forced her eyes to his own.

"Your chains are still mine," he growled dangling the silver jewel before her eyes. Leaning closer he hissed, "You belong to me!"

Carelessly he released his hold, flinging her away from him. Unbalanced she felt herself tumble to the ground, hitting the marble with a painful crash. Eyes closed against the sounds of her Angel's escape she was only aware of how she must have looked standing before her master.

She was nothing but a foolish child, too absorbed with her relationship with Raoul to consider that another would be hurt in her happiness. Sobbing she studied the mutlicolored veins in the marble underneath her palms.

Gently a pair of hands grabbed her waist and lifted her to her feet. Through tear blurred vision she sighed in relief to recognize Meg's familiar face.

"You're shaking like a leaf," Meg said in a concerned voice. "Come Christine."

Unaware as to where Raoul had disappeared to she allowed herself to be tended by her oldest friend. Supported by the beautiful blond dancer they made their way to Christine's old dressing room. Tormented by her regrets and shortcomings she was barely aware when they entered the familiar pink walled room. Straight ahead, leaned against the wall, the tall mirror stood. Dangerously forboding Christine partially expected to see the masked face of her Angel watching her weep.

"Sh, Christine," Meg comforted as she helped Christine out of her extravagent gown. "He's gone. Raoul will protect you now."

"No, Meg!" Christine protested. "I've betrayed him! He'll never forgive me."

She buried her head in her hands allowing the force of her frustration to over rule her other senses.

* * *

The rooftop.

Flurries of snow fell from the black sky above and a chill deeper than winter crept inside of her. Clutching her chest she felt the pounding of her heart beneath her fingertips. Joseph Buquet was dead, slaughtered all because the managers, Firmen and Andre, refused to do as the Phantom ordered.

And it was all her fault.

Stumbling forward she leaned against a gruesome gargoil willing the strength to return to her trembling knees. Everything had gone wrong.

"Christine." Raoul's voice startled her and she spun around suddenly terrified.

"Don't take me back there," she begged seeing the open door leading back into the theatre as a gaping hole meant to swallow her. "He'll kill me! His eyes will find me there - those eyes that burn. And if he has to kill a thousand men...the Phantom of the opera will kill and kill again."

Raoul's brown eyes narrowed and he stepped towards her. Backing away she strangled her sobs. He was in danger because of her disloyalty, because of the managers'.

"There is no Phantom of the opera," Raoul whispered still continuing forward.

In his gaze she could almost believe his lies, almost imagine a time when her waking moments were spent terrified of a deformed beast stalking her from the shadows. Upon the snowy rooftop she could almost sense him, his faraway gaze lurking just beyond the nearest shadow.

Turning back to her old friend Christine's indignance grew as he continued to patronize her fear. "Raoul I've been there," she told him edging closer. "To his world of unending night. To a place where the daylight desolves into darkness..." Her voice trailed off as she was lost to her memories.

Candles had risen from the lake, fully lit and dripping with water. All around her fire heated away the chill that clung to every stony alcove. Behind her a voice comforted and lulled her into feeling secure, like every oddity was completely normal. His presense hovered over her, excitingly dangerous as his masked face kept his features hidden from her eyes. Yet she believed that he was beautiful, his very aura proved that to her. She didn't question, she was silent.

"...Darkness..." she whispered far away. "But his voice filled my spirit with a strang sweet sound, in that night there was music in my mind. And through music my soul began to soar. And I heard as I'd never heard before."

"What you heard was a dream and nothing more," Raoul's reassurance jolted her out of her mind. He continued to dismiss her story as the mere imaginings of a woman.

Her Angel would have listened, would have understood. She had spent many nights laying in bed speaking into the shadows, pouring all her concerns and fears into the man who never questioned or laughed. He'd listened, he'd believed, and he always chased away her worries with promises.

Little could she anticipate that he was a creature made up of fear and hatred. When she woke the next morning, nestling carefully in his bed, it all seemed surreal. She wanted to understand, wanted to see the man behind the mask.

Instead she was greeted with anger and malice. Horror and pain creased his deformed face as his black eyes pleaded with her to understand. To accept what she could not fathom. But through his pure midnight eyes she saw her dread mirrored as pure grief.

"Yet in his eyes, all the sadness of the world," she recalled. "Those pleading eyes that both threatened and adored."

"Christine," Raoul said as though he meant to chastise her. Softly he added, "Christine."

The wind whistled past her ears and, with it the faint whisper of her name.

"...Christine..."

* * *

Startled awake Christine panted trying to determine whether she had dreampt the sweet call of her name. Sitting upright she wiped her sweaty palms on the soft fabric of her sheer robe. That night seemed decades in the past, yet it haunted her mercilessly.

Groggily she stood from her bed, dropping blankets from her lap as she did. Slowly she turned to study the dauntingly empty mirror. Partially she expected to see her Angel's masked face, protectively watching her. Instead the silence of midnight chilled her bones. Edging tentatively closer Christine pulled the fabric of her robe tighter around her torso. So many questions tormented her.

Who was the name behind the Phantom? Why did he allow his anger to control him? And, most importantly, why did he love her?

Love seemed an odd word to match with a man who seemingly killed for sport and, yet, she could find no other explination. Evident by the songs he sang in her head, and by the passion behind his rage. He did, in fact, love her.

But did she love him? She was not certain.

Love seemed so fickle a thing. Raoul smiled and lifted her spirit, her Angel sang and she felt more than what was humanely possible. So, which was love? The reassurance of security and summer versus the excitement and allure of night.

Before she understood what she was doing her hand was flat angainst the frozen glass and her palms slid it to the side, opening the wall to a secret passage. Stepping through she stood alone before a vast path before her.

"Angel," she whispered into the darkness feeling foolish. "...Angel...?"

Silence. Christine's cheeks burned red as she considered what she had planned to do. Beg forgiveness? That alone seemed absurd. She couldn't fathom what it would be like to speak with her illusive Phantom. Never had she ever attempted such a thing. They'd always comunicated through music. And the air around her was silent.

He would not come to her. He would not sing for her.

Childish tears rolled down her cheeks. Her Angel was gone. Replaced by the Phantom of the Opera.


	2. Chapter Two - Wandering Child

**I do apologize for still being inside the main plot. I promise, we're nearing the end. Please read and review! **

* * *

Chapter Two - Wandering Child

_In sleep he sang to me._

French contryside rolled just beyond the carriage's window. Just at the turn of the weather the foilaged seemed browner than usual and the sky grayer. Today Christine's borrowed carriage was the only one to be seen on the old road. Veiled in black she sat staring blankly ahead.

_In dreams he came._

Exhaustion had emptied her and was evident in the rings of discolored skin under her dead blue eyes. While the managers plotted and the chorus members memorized their lines she tirelessly struggled with what she believed to be right and what her heart refused to release.

..._The Phantom of the opera..._

Richard Firmen and Gilles Andre's plot against the Phantom had begun to reach a crescendo. They wanted her to aid them, to become a pawn in their war. Even Raoul, whom she trusted, implored her to 'see reason'. His compassion was gone, replaced by his insecurities. Had he asked she would have willingly left with him, followed him far away from the Phantom's control.

The sudden halt of the carriage drew Christine out of her thoughts. Past the curtain the chilling picture of the overgrown graveyard. She was relieved to see that she would be completely alone.

Without a moments hesitation she exited the carriage, walking boldly onto the barely visable cobblestone path. Lifting the rusted latch she pushed open the creaky gate and entered into the sea of gravestones and stone angels. Strangly the sight of ivy wrapping around a statues neck didn't frighten her and, unlike her previous trips, she did not skirt around the gargoils.

"Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing," she whispered tiredly. "Her father promised her he would send her the angel of music...her father promised her."

Gustav. Christine's heart ached at the memory of his kind smile and affectionate embrace. The sound of the violin filling the corners of their house when their stomachs were pinched with hunger and the winter's unrelenting grasp threatened to strangle them. He had been her everything in a world too cruel - too unfriendly. He had encouraged her voice, helped it to bloom. And he would not live to see the fruit of their labors. He would never hear the full maturity of her talent.

Heat gathered at the corner of her eyes as she reached the familiar grave. Leaving the path she treaded through brambles and untended grass, ignoring the way they tugged at her skirt.

"Hello father," she said through her held back emotion. "So much has happened...so much has - changed. I wish you were here to help me, to guide me."

Her legs suddenly gave way beneath her and she fell to her knees and unto the soft bed of foilage. Not for the first time, she realized how desperately she needed him. How desperately she longed for his calming voice and steady gaze.

"My angel -," her voice hitched and she took a steadying breath, "he wasn't who I thought he was. He wasn't an Angel at all...but I trust him...Oh, papa, I'm so frightened!"

Christine buried her face, pressing hard against her eyes as though it would somehow help her see her path clearly before her. As though it would help ease her bewilderment.

"Wandering child, so lost, so helpless," the warm voice startled her, yet calmed her nontheless. Jolting her body 'round she stared towards the mausoleum where an orange light glowed. "Yearning for my guidance."

"Angel?" She gasped furrowing her brow as she took tentative steps forward. "Friend? Or Phantom? Who is it there calling?"

For a breathless moment she feared the response she would recieve. She knew her angel was merely the phantom and the phantom was simply a man. Derranged, driven to madness by jealousy. Yet, still she dared to hope.

"Have you forgotten your angel?" Came the placid reply.

"Angel," she gasped hardly believing her own ears. This was the Man, returning to her at long last. "Oh speak, what endless longing echo in this whisper."

"Too long you've wandered in winter," he said almost sympathetically. "Far from my fathering gaze."

Wildly she felt her mind rebel. Screaming to remind her all the horrors she had faced at this supposed Angel. Buquet's death, the fear of loosing Raoul, threat after threat, and the games that were played in the hope to unmask him. Yet, deep in her soul, she knew she couldn't resist the allure he presented.

"I shunned you," she whispered ashamed though she remained fixed on the building.

"Come to me," he bade with forgiveness. "I am your angel of music."

Lifting the hem of her skirt she walked eagerly forward, skipping over the three steps and halting just at the door. She knew that, just beyond it, her Angel waited to take her. To protect her from the violence that awaited her back at the Opera house. If she left with him now, disappeared into the night, there would be no schemes, no plots, and no one would be hurt.

Yes, this was the best way.

"No, Christine, wait!" Except...Raoul!

Jerking around she was faced with the perfectly whole and handsome sight of her fiance rushing towards her. Quickly he grabbed her arm and pulled her away, boring straight into her blue eyes.

"Whatever you may believe this man -," glancing upward briefly he added through gritted teeth, "this /thing/ is not your father."

No, of course not. Gustav was dead. How foolish he must think her! Angrily she pulled her arm free as she regarded Raoul, too absorbed with his own frustration to notice her perturbations.

"Such spirited words," the Phantom hissed from his hiding spots.

"You can't win her love by making her your prisoner," Raoul shouted back passionately. Instead of retort the cemetary grew chillingly silent.

Christine wanted to scream, wanted to beg her Angel to return. But she knew he wouldn't, she knew he would remain irritatingly illusive. When he turned towards her, however, she felt her anger dissolve. Tenderly he touched her cheek, lifting her chin.

"Are you alright?" He asked searchingly. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," Christine assured genuinly confused. She wasn't sure how to explain her trust towards the Phantom, even though she had every reason to be frightened of him.

"Come, we should return," Raoul said gently guiding her hand into the crook of his elbow.

Casting a final look behind her she allowed herself to be led away.

* * *

Music, his music. Written on parchment. Delicately she brushed her fingers across the page, hearing each note errupt inside of her mind. They wanted her to sing the Phantom's opera, they wanted her be their bait. And she had no other choice.

"Christine, you look beautiful," Meg said, breaking into Christine's thoughts.

Emptiness consumed her as she gazed at her friend's reflection through the mirror of her vanity. Meg was dressed in a beautiful costume that fell to the floor in heaps of gold, black, and maroon. Over her golden curls she wore a black tassled scarf. The colors brought to life Meg's natural glow and Christine couldn't blame her friend for smiling. And, as was usual whenever she considered Meg, Christine felt significantly the lesser.

Tonight she would play the innocent female lead. Described as charming and elegant, she was to play the part. Yet, she struggled.

"Oh Meg," she exhaled shakily. "I'm not sure I can do this."

Instantly Meg's green eyes sombered and she ambled closer, crouching down to meet Christine's vacant stare. "I know, but you must."

_I must._ Christine's thoughts echoed. _Yes, it is what's right._ Still, her heart throbbed. She knew that tonight she would be forced to choose between her heart and her morals. Between the Phantom and Raoul. Choices - there would always be choices.

Brusquely she turned away, feigning interest in her mess of auburn curls. Her trembling fingers pinned and smoothed, only serving to reveal her nerves.

"Oh, my Christine," Meg frowned touching her shoulder lightly.

"It seems I am everybodies' Christine but my own," she hissed. "Do I not have any say in the path that I choose?"

Behind her Meg looked downward, removing her friendly touch. "I am sorry, if I could I would switch places with you."

But she couldn't and the idea was enough to drive Christine mad. "Meg, if you don't mind, I think I'd like to be alone."

"Of course," Meg nodded, smiling warmly though there was pain behind her eyes. Their friendship wasn't what it had been. No longer could Christine look upon her without hearing the plotting voices of those who pulled her in every direction imaginable.

Slowly Meg sulked towards the door, stepping through it, than silently closing Christine inside. Alone she tossed the composition aside and rose towards the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her with dead, tired eyes. Admitedly she was appealing in appearance. Her hair was shiny and the pink, black ruffled gown she wore held all the obsessive detail she would expect from the man who first envisioned it. Disgusted by her inescapable performance she moved away to retrieve her shawl. Wrapping it around her shoulders she began to consider her options.

If she went on stage, trusted in all of Raoul's assurances and his arrangements, and things did go exactly as planned she would be free. Free of the Phantom forever and he would be - where would he be? Prison? Homeless? She wasn't certain. Perhaps he deserved such a calloused fate. But if she chose him. If she could warn him. Maybe she could save him?

Why did she feel that it all rested on her shoulders? As though she were the Phantom's only hope? Why did she feel that he was worth saving - worth protecting?

Deep in her heart she understood why and the answer had begun growing clearer with each tedious day. A man born with such unfortunate features would have faced obvious trials, he would have been a social outcast. So why did it surprise her that he acted in such a violent manner? It was the only language he could use to his advantage.

"Miss. Daae," a stagehand knocked at her door. "You are wanted backstage."

So what was her decision? Betray the man who inspired her voice? Or become his forever?

Walking towards the door she felt her choice settle inside of her until she was certain there was no other way. She had to do what she knew was right. It was time to finally leave her Angel of Music behind her.


	3. Chapter Three - The Point of No Return

**Sorry for the delay on this chapter. Needless to say it went through several phases until I finally was pleased with it. I hope you all enjoy. Please read and review.**

* * *

Chapter Three - The Point of No Return

"Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust for blood?" Christine demanded loudly in he hallow cavern. "Am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh?"

Her passionate words fell on deaf ears as the Phantom strode forward, wedding veil in hand. Madness lit his red rimmed black eyes and, for a moment, they almost appeared blue. Unmasked before her, she found that she no longer feared the horror of his face but, instead, she pitied the man beneath it.

"That fate which condemns me to wallow in blood, has also denied me the joys of the flesh," he said reaching a bony finger towards her face. Instinctively she flinched away only to have him grasp her chin to force her to stare at him. "You must face the infection that poisons our love."

_Love?_ Her mind screamed in revulsion. He spoke of love yet he had manipulated her life, killed many of her friends, and dictated her future in Opera. How could she love a man who stooped to such dark practices? Why did she love him?

Suddenly his eyes withdrew from the present and his hold on her was released. Stumbling away he leaned against the wall of the cave for support. "This face," he breathed almost too quietly. "Which earned a mother's fear and loathing. A mask, my first unfeeling scrap of clothing."

Christine had never heard a man speak so emotionally. She wanted to reach for him, she wanted to find some way to comfort him. But she knew that she couldn't. Now, locked away deep in his grief, he was unreachable. Even for her.

Almost as though a candle had been extinguished the Phantom turned back towards her, fire burning in his soul. He grabbed her arm and yanked her body away from him. Roughly she felt him drop the veil to the top of her head.

Leaning close against her back, "Turn around and face your fate," he hissed and she obliged. Standing before her was his deformity, his hate, and the promise of a life spent in terror. "An eternity of this, before your eyes."

She saw tears rolling down his cheeks, one smooth and one deformed. The right side of his lips were puffy and larger than they should have been. Pieces of his skull were missing, revealing ugly red bulges that pumped with his anger. He was almost completely bald with the occasional tuft of silver hear sticking up wildly. Without his mask and wig his madness was on full display. He was vulnerable.

Trembling she moved forward, grasping his arms a with tenderness that was completely foreign to him. His eyes widened in confusion under her soft touch though he did not pull away.

"This haunted face," she said willing her voice to cease it's shakiness. "Hold no horror for me now."

She spoke the truth. His unseemly features was only the surface to the true madness. The Phantom averted his gaze and fiddled with her veil, setting it just right over her bare shoulders. The gown she wore was heavy with folds of white satin and she was amazed that he would have been able to create such a stunning dress. She grasped his arms, forcing him to pay attention to her.

"It's in your soul that the true distortion lies." He froze, his skin under her fingers trembling at the sound of her boldness. And for a moment she believed that she had managed to turn him away from his pointless quest.

* * *

There would be no going back now. The bridge had been crossed and there was nothing left to do but stand back and watch it burn. And burn it did. Brightly, with splendor and violence.

There Christine stood, at the foot of an ultimatum. Behind her stood the dreaded Phantom, panting madly and in his hands he held the end of the rope which strangled Raoul.

Before her was Raoul. Tied against the portcullis Christine's fiancé begged her tirelessly to choose her freedom over his life. To do the selfish thing. Yet, there she stood perfectly still. Unable to decide.

Up on the stage, earlier that evening, she had been bold as she performed next to her former tutor. Alongside him it had been as though they were untouchable, she could feel the lull of his power pulling her towards him intoxicatingly. Still she had betrayed him. Still she had sought to hurt him in the worst way imaginable.

Now he was a different mad. Driven to madness by his jealousy. He was terrified of her rejection and by the possibility that, maybe, he was a monster incapable of being loved.

She understood him in a way that she hadn't before. She understood both of them. But the choice still stood. It was either Raoul's life for her freedom, or her freedom for Raoul's life. It hardly seemed a fair trade but her mind was made up.

There was never a time more in her life when she wished that she could be selfish, that she could do as her fiancé asked. She could not - would not condemn either of these men.

"Pitiful creature of darkness," she said softly starting towards the Phantom. "What kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you, you are not alone."

Before she could change her mind she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to the Phantom's. Immediately fire raged through her blood and passionate music occupied her every sense. Delving deeper into the kiss she cupped her hand to his cheek, ignoring the paper-like quality to his skin. She felt him tense, felt his arms rise as he considered the display of affection. Pulling away breathlessly she flung her arms around him, tears streaming down her cheeks, and silently dared him to deny her now.

She tried not to imagine the look of rejection on Raoul's face, but heard the hissing of his disgust nonetheless.

Raoul would find love again. He was young, handsome, and full of prospects. And the longer Christine clung to the Phantom the more she was certain that she had made the right decision. She had saved him from a life of darkness. From a life of self-loathing. She could find peace in that truth.

Until she felt the Phantom's hands grasp her shoulders and push her back. Confused she watched him slump in defeat and tumble away. Tears soaked his face and sobs wracked his entire slender body. Decisively he moved to where Raoul was slung up and Christine hopes soared as he cut the rope, sending the man to his knees. Much to her surprise though, the Phantom knelt down and lifted Raoul, tossing him in her direction.

"Go," he whispered. Then, louder, he repeated. "Go now, take her, forget me. Forget all of this."

Christine wanted to shout her refusal. Wanted to rush back to her side and reassure him that she made her choice, and he needn't send her away. But the chants of the mob surrounded them with astounding velocity. The Phantom looked towards the lair's only entrance, horrified and filled with dread. They were coming for him. Coming to seek their revenge.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" He screamed mostly to himself. He looked once more at Christine and Raoul and rushed towards them threateningly. "Forget all you've seen. Go now, don't let them find you! Take the boat," he pointed towards the lake and Christine was almost surprised to hear him suggesting that they abandon him there. "Swear to me, never to tell of the secret you know of this angel in HELL!" He fell to his knees and shouted towards the heavens. "GO NOW AND LEAVE ME!"

Silence fell almost in shocking contrast to his heartbreaking grief. Instinctively she moved towards the fallen Phantom but was stopped by Raoul's sudden touch. She'd almost forgotten about him. She turned towards him, her blue eyes glistening with tears. He beckoned her to follow him towards the boat and the lump in her throat nearly strangled her.

Shaking her head she whispered. "I can't."

Raoul's brows furrowed and his hand fell from her elbow. Without a second glance she moved towards the Phantom. He had crawled from the staircase and was now fiddling with the velvet monkey dressed smartly in persian robes. His sobs nearly drowned out the sound of the music box, but Christine knew the tune well.

"Masquerade," he sang softly between sharp gasps. "Paper faces on parade, masquerade...hide you face so the world - can never find you."

As she edged closer her foot toppled a rock, grabbing his attention away from his singing.

With tear filled eyes he took in her appearance. "Christine, I love you."

There was nothing that she could say. Nothing that she could do that would convince him that she intended to be by his side.

But she had to try. Before he could retreat into himself she rushed forward and grabbed his hands in her own. "Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime," she requested softly, lowering herself down to his level. "Say the word and I will follow you."

For a dreadful moment she feared that he would never speak. That his silence would force her after Raoul.

Instead her heart soared as he replied, "Share each day with me, each night, each morning."

"Anywhere you go, let me go to," she begged fresh tears falling. This time she didn't feel pain, she felt relief.

"Christine," he said gently. He pulled one hand free and wrapped it around her neck, guiding her head down until their foreheads touched. "That's all I ask of you."

And there they sat, breathing in each other's emotions, relishing in the strange life they had jumped into. Then the chanting began again. Forcing them to part, forcing them to stand, glancing around them with a fear of every shadow.

Turning back to her the Phantom said dangerously. "I cannot guarantee your safety."

She stepped forward grabbing his hand. "I trust you."


	4. Chapter Four - All I Ask Of You

**Finally we are getting more into the story. Sorry if this chapter is a little shorter than usual.**

* * *

Chapter Four - All I Ask Of You

Stumbling through the darkness, over rocks and up steep inclines in a corseted wedding gown certainly wasn't an easy task. The Phantom's, now returned to his ever illusive masked self, guidance and firm grip on her hand pulling forward frantically made every step even that more crucial.

Together they emerged through the cellar doors and were greeted by the blackened gardens, burned down into hissing embers. Smoke surrounded them, hiding them from sight as the Phantom kept pushing forward. Trusting him to keep her safe she took the time to gaze around her at the charred marble around her. Behind them she could barely make out the sound of frustrated conversation. Somewhere the managers would be trying to devise a plan of action while hundreds of cast members, the crew, and the servants - they would all be homeless. All because of her.

"Wait!" A voice called from behind.

The Phantom wheeled around, strategically positioning her behind him, and she saw as his eyes grew instantly dangerous. In the distance a dark figure hurtled towards them, jumping over fallen pillars and clearing piles of smoking ash. Christine didn't need to see his face to know who pursued them.

"Monsieur Viscount," Phantom growled through his clenched jaw. She saw him reach behind his cloak as Raoul stopped only a couple of feet before them.

"Release her," he warned pointing the tip of his drawn sword towards the Phantom's throat. Momentarily he casted his puppy-dog brown eyes in her direction. The agony written on his face was almost enough to break her. "Christine, my love, I should have stayed by your side. I should have known he would try to steal you away the moment my back was turned."

Her cheeks burned red with guilt and she hid her face from view and rested her cheek upon her Angel's back. Raoul believed that she was the victim and he would defend her thusly. And why wouldn't he? She had abandoned him in the catacombs. Distraught she grabbed a handful of the Phantom's cloak as she silently willed her ex-fiancé to stand down.

But of course he wouldn't. Not without hearing the words come from her lips. The realization opened her eyes wide and she quickly gathered her courage before she stepped beside the Phantom. For strength she grasped his arm in a tight hold. Immediately she felt his eyes upon her, still unused to her casual affection.

Stubbornly she set her jaw and jutted out her chin proudly. "I've made my choice."

"No!" Raoul shouted aggrieved. "I will not believe these lies. _He_ has bewitched you and for that he shall pay!"

He was acting like a child who had lost his favored play thing. Throwing a tantrum, shouting his dismay. As if to punctuate his words he stepped forward, his face creased in rejection, and his sword raised high above him. Ready to strike down the deranged Angel.

Christine could not let the violence continue. Both men would beat the other into oblivion and she feared the Phantom's violence.

"Raoul, no!" She begged as she placed herself between them. Halfway through his action Raoul's arm froze midair. Dropping his weapon he stumbled backwards, his eyes softening. Trembling she whispered hoarsely, "No."

Looking past her his eyes found the Phantom, threatening and sad at the same time. "Would you really have her protect you?"

"No, no, no, my _precious_ Viscount," he seethed. "She is protecting _you_."

Glancing back at him she truly believed his words. One of his hands were still lost beneath his cloak and she feared what he had stashed there. She believed that he would kill Raoul and she could not let that happen.

"Please," Christine begged. The charged tension between the two men frightened her. They were like a coil, tensed and threateningly close to an attack. "Let me go."

"You do not know what you are saying," Raoul growled not even looking in her direction. "I will not let this monster steal you from me."

Before she could process what was happening the Phantom surged forward, using his cape to block Raoul's surprised counter attack. Using his leg to unbalance Raoul, he sent the Viscount to the ground looking up at him from his back.

"You had the chance to kill me once," Phantom hissed breathlessly. "Now, for Christine's sake, I will return the favor."

Backing away, Raoul propped himself up on his elbows. "Christine, if you leave with him now you will regret it for the rest of your life. You are my little Lottie, does that mean nothing to you?"

She was torn and slightly angered by Raoul digging at their past. There was nothing she could say that would convince him that this was what she wanted, not matter how mad it seemed. He loved her relentlessly and would never stop until she was back by his side. Devoted to his every whim.

Ungluing herself from her spot she moved to Raoul. She kneeled down and said softly, "I loved you once, but that was a long time ago. This is the path that I have chosen. Go, leave us, and forget me."

Rising up she met the Phantom's gaze and she saw bewilderment deep in his soul. He did not know why she had chosen him, why she still chose him. There was no better proof that she had made the right decision. She would gladly spend the rest of her days reassuring him that there was no place she'd rather be. Together, engulfed in music and passion.

Reluctantly she removed her gaze back to where Raoul had been laying. Only, he was gone. Searchingly she stepped forward and could barely make out a retreating form lost in the smoke and mist of night. Silent her Angel placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her towards the street, away from the horrific scene of what used to be her home. Their home.

As they searched for safe passage out of Paris she couldn't help but consider what her life would have been like had she left with Raoul.

Although her career would have ended with the Opera house, her name would remain known throughout the city. With power and money to spare she would have undoubtedly found happiness in her position. She would have mothered children with Raoul, attended social events where Christine would have smiled and nodded courteously as other wealthy wives commented on her health but whispered about her humble beginnings behind her back. She was not from nobility and her dealings would the infamous Opera Ghost would be the topic of many conversations. There would be no more songs in her head and her dreams of performing would come to a bitter end. And that wasn't at all the life she had imagined for herself. Childhood love or no.

Instead she had chosen a life filled with music. She would never have to fear abandonment or silence. Not so long as her Angel remained devotedly at her side. Money and power mattered not, so long as they were together she would find happiness. And so would he.

The unexpected absence of his hand on her back almost went unnoticed until she realized that they were standing at the edge of the street. She watched the Phantom's dark shadow as he moved across the street like a shadow and disappeared behind a carriage. Christine watched with interest as the cab drivers face grew instantly concerned. Unable to hear what was being said she was amazed when the carriage moved from the ledge and towards her. When it halted beside her the door magically opened and she climbed in. When the door closed the Phantom appeared across from her.

"Where are we going?" She asked as the buggy lurched forward.

"Boscherville," he replied staring blankly towards the window. She hummed still a little unsure of his chosen destination. As far as she knew there was nothing exceptionally grand in that tiny, country village. In the darkness the shockingly white mask turned towards her. "I have arrangements, we should be quite comfortable."

"Angel -."

"Erik," he said cutting her off. She looked at him wide eyed and confused. "My name is Erik."

"Erik," she repeated liking the way it rolled off her tongue. For a moment she imagined she spied a smile cross his lips.

Even though they were fleeing Paris there was no place that she would rather be. Tentatively she moved beside him, wrapping herself in his cloak and laying her head on the chest. The exhaustion of the evening had finally caught up with her. Under her she could fell him tense up as he slowly wrapped his arms around her. Yes, this was exactly where she wanted to be.


End file.
